


The Saint Unmasked

by smuttyandabsurd



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Anne Rice - Freeform, M/M, One Shot, The Vampire Armand, Vampire Chronicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:31:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smuttyandabsurd/pseuds/smuttyandabsurd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Beautiful and eternally young, the face of a Boticelli angel. Refined cheekbones betray his Slavic heritage, and those smouldering eyes hint at his calculated cunning. The Vampire Armand, dangerously seductive, a hunter and a blood drinker most capable of cruelty, in the deceptive form of a 17-year-old innocent."</p><p>David Talbot admires Armand in all his beauty. Set to take place at the very end of The Vampire Armand.</p><p>Armand/David.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Saint Unmasked

He sat unearthly still, staring with unblinking eyes at the candle flame licking the black curling wick, devouring the hot melting wax. He could while away the last hours of darkness in that chair, if he wanted, until the coming of dawn dictates our vampire nature to seek refuge from the light of the sun, the one most destructive force of our kind.

But he survived it, this man, this ancient being in the guise of a boy...  
  
I drew closer to him, the scrape of the wooden legs of my chair startling him out of his quiet reverie, and he turned to look at me with warm brown eyes that drew me in. He did not react when I reached with fingers stained in black ink to touch his soft curls. He allowed me to play with his hair, to marvel at the way the light caught and danced in the different shades of red.  
  
Beautiful and eternally young, the face of a Boticelli angel. Refined cheekbones betray his Slavic heritage, and those smouldering eyes hint at his calculated cunning. The Vampire Armand, dangerously seductive, a hunter and a blood drinker most capable of cruelty, in the deceptive form of a 17-year-old innocent.  
  
Faint bemusement tugged the corner of his luscious lips, his eyes boring into mine, no doubt reading my very thoughts.  
  
“Is that what you think of me, David?” he asked softly. There was a slight hurt to his tone.  
  
I kissed him lightly on the lips, meaning to appease him, but he pushed me away and rose from his seat. He walked away from the table and stood with his back turned to me, his pale hands wrapped around his arms to ward off a sudden chill. I followed after him and stood behind him, resting my hands on his cold shoulders. He remained still, ignoring me, and emboldened by his silence I held him more intimately, drawing him into an embrace and breathing in the scent of his lustrous hair.  
  
“Stop, you make me hungry,” he said. I could feel him tremble against me.  
  
“Have you lost interest in me so quickly?” I murmured. “Were you not wondering what I would taste like, how you might overpower me with your greater craft and cunning?”  
  
He pulled away, still hugging himself, and half-turned to flash a look of scorn.  
  
“And you intend to be a willing victim?” he sneered, eyes narrowed. I simply smiled.  
  
Anything for you, my tenacious little companion...  
  
I closed the distance between us once more, and before he could utter a word of protest, my lips pressed to his. His body stiffened, but he returned the kiss, and with a new urgency he bit me. I felt the smallest prick of his fangs into my lower lip, his moist tongue eagerly lapping at the blood droplets that bubbled from the wound. I sighed into the nibbling kiss. Oh this was pleasurable, but it wasn’t enough.  
  
I gripped the sides of his arms and urged him away from me, and he tore loose obediently, licking his lips to savour the lingering taste of my blood. I smiled inwardly. He made for a passive aggressor.  
  
An eyebrow lifted minutely. “Ah, David, you mock me still.”  
  
“Not mock, my precious, I am only your adoring companion.”  
  
I watched as his eyes travelled the length of my form; dark lashes drooping, concealing, hint of a smile turning the corners of his perfect mouth. He liked my boldness. His eyes snapped up to meet mine and all pretence evaporated with a sudden surge of undisguised blood lust. How dreamy he looked, how deliciously inviting, his inherent predator coming forth. There was no mirth to his widening smirk; his eyes were cold, narrowed still, taunting.  
  
_Amuse me if you will, David Talbot._  
  
He seemed to beckon me towards him, and I was holding him in my arms, my hand at the back of his neck, taking delight in the feel of his smooth skin over hard, preternatural flesh. His eyes were closed to me, but as I kissed his artery I drew from his mind the images playing behind his eyelids – in a gilded bed with perfumed sheets, his tunic undone, exposed to the artful caresses of silken lips. Through his blurred vision I see Marius, shirt unlaced as well, scattering chaste love over his beloved apprentice. By the light of a flame I could see the hunger in his blue eyes, the slightest glint of his protruding fangs...  
  
The Venetian scene vanished as abruptly as I had dove into it, and my eyes opened to Armand’s half-lidded reproach, his secret passions swiftly locked away from my discourteous curiosity.  
  
“I wish you wouldn’t look into me so wantonly,” he said with a terrible sadness. His gaze lowered, and the loneliness of his soul laid bare for me the vulnerability of a child.  
  
I pressed upon him a sweet affection, and silently I begged to be allowed to comfort him. Take a draught of my blood, I offered. Or should I be the one to take from you? Let me be Marius, if you wish...  
  
My lips latched to his neck, my teeth broke his skin. His blood was a thickly sweet nectar filling my mouth, and as I sucked greedily I felt his hands clutch at my clothes and my hair, hugging tight to me. I fell into a swoon, enchanted by the quickening rhythm of his strong heartbeat. But quite suddenly I was ripped from his fount; his face buried into my neck and two hot shafts punctured my throat. I gasped from the searing heat looped around my heart, tugging with each mouthful he swallowed, and the coil my heart had become wound tighter and tighter until I could bear it no longer and cried out.  
  
We tumbled into bed, I atop of him, and gaining control. Once more I drank from him, and once more he pried loose and took his turn. Then he broke from me and caught my lips, and all our thirst mingled and ignited into a fiery passion that transcended blood exchange. He kissed so fiercely, a conquering prince, but I was even more ardent and I had him pinned beneath me. When my bruised lips tore and gave way to bloodshed, he yielded at last to my might and kittishly licked my blood-smeared lips, sighing with soft pleasure.  
  
_Love me_ , he implored with clear wide eyes. And it was I who submitted to him this time, I who drew him to me like a treasure. And it was I who whispered to him, “I love you.”  
  
We would part at dawn to our separate sleeping quarters, and when night falls again he would tend to his human fledglings and I to an inanimate Lestat. But for now we shall share this moment of breathless unity. And when we return to being mere acquaintances, I shall remember the feel of his skin, the warmth of his blood, the depth of his eyes, his secret smile.


End file.
